


all it takes is you and me and a song

by doorwaytoparadise



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doorwaytoparadise/pseuds/doorwaytoparadise
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley finally have a life for themselves, where they can dance like they've always wanted.For round 3 of the Soft Omens server Guess The Author game. Prompt was 'dancing'.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #03 "Dancing"





	all it takes is you and me and a song

One step, then another. A spin, a stumble, a laugh. 

Crowley trips into Aziraphale, feels strong arms catch her waist, relishes the way Aziraphale pulls her close. There’s a smile against her skin, where Aziraphale has pressed them cheek-to-cheek, and Crowley feels sunlight and sparklers in her chest; warm, excited, bright. She huffs regardless.

“Don’t laugh at me, angel, I haven’t really danced since the seventies.” 

“It’s alright, my dear, it's just you and me.”

And isn’t that the beauty of it? Armageddon canceled, heaven and hell out of their hair, and a calm and peaceful life just for them. A little cottage, a thriving garden, Aziraphale more radiant and beautiful than ever. It’s mornings of sunlight pouring in the windows as they sit at the kitchen table, it’s afternoons spent lazily at home or out in town or wandering the shore. It’s nights no longer spent alone, safe and shared and real. It’s also days where Aziraphale gets it in her head to do something stupidly sappy like turn on the radio and try to dance in the living room. 

Crowley slides a little in her socked feet, grumbles at the indignity, though she doesn’t really mind.

“Why do you even want to dance? Neither of us know how.”

Aziraphale hums a little, smiles indulgently at Crowley’s tone as she leads them onto the rug instead of the wood floor. 

“It’s something we’ve never done before, like this, something we were never allowed. But now we can, so why not?”

It’s true, that they’d never before danced as partners. The two of them had spent so long in one kind of dance, always around and never with, careful steps and measured movement. Actions, words, and feelings, always disguised, always repressed, too much danger in just working together, let alone something like this. There was 6000 years of history between them, seeds planted in a garden, and they were finally watching them grow.

Crowley looks around at the home they’ve built together, a simple life, a mix of them both. She thinks about the days that are good, when Aziraphale laughs freely and doesn’t cast her eyes upward, when Crowley can sit still beside Aziraphale instead of circling her. She thinks about the days that are bad, nightmares and lingering fear they’re both trying to shake. There are times Aziraphale falls apart, millenia’s worth of trauma rattling through her corporation, and Crowley reminds her how to breathe. There are nights Crowley trembles awake, more scales than skin, sulfur on the back of her tongue, and Aziraphale holds her close. They take it day-by-day; good, bad, theirs. 

Crowley stops where she is, the awkward swaying, the stumbling steps. She stops and really takes it in, what a gift this life is. Aziraphale is in her arms, alive and happy, watching her with a smile and a questioning tilt of her head. 

“Are we stopping? The song isn’t over yet, love.”

“No,” Crowley mutters, soft, gentle. “No, it really isn’t, is it?”


End file.
